Last in class? How did that happen? First of all our sails self-destructed. These kevlar sails, which worked so well for us in Thailand, and have hardly been used since we won King’s Cup with them, started coming apart on seams. We’d be sailing along and, without warning, the sails simply spit apart. The jib broke at the top and the main broke twice, once at the top and once in the lower middle. This is obviously a defect in the sail construction. The seams where they split are glued seams, not sewed. Well, they are sewed now. We did one repair on the boat and on the day off we took them to North Sails and had all the seams sewed with big reinforcement patches. After that they held, but the damage to our race score was already done.

We also tore the #4, our Dacron working jib and that is serious because it means the cloth is getting old. We may need to replace this sail soon.

The other problem is that we were slow. Even when the sails held together we could hardly get out of our own way. I accept responsibility for this. Gambling on the weather I had the boat rated for non-overlapping sails. So, for the whole regatta, we couldn’t use the genoa. But the wind went light and with just the #3 jib we were desperately short on power. This affected our starts and the beats. Downwind we were fast. Of course on the days when the wind blew we were fast enough all the way around the course, but then we had the sail problems.

So we finished the races in the bottom third, and with the retirements, ended up in last place.

Analyzing the results data I found that if we’d have had only 1/3 of a knot of more speed we’d have been very competitive. The genoa would have delivered that so going without it was a major mistake. Of course if the wind had come in as forecast, 13-18 knots, we’d have been fine and would have enjoyed a very low rating. You make the call and take the chances. This time I lost.

It does leave me feeling like I have unfinished business. I’d really like another shot at this regatta but that is probably not in the cards. This time next year we’ll be in Cartagena, Columbia and are not likely to make the trek back here to Antigua. Oh well, maybe there will be other races in other places.

Not to make this report even bleaker, there were personnel injuries. Not among the racing crew, but among the shore crew. My sister Jan and her husband Howard were here for a holiday and to act as shore crew for us. On the night before the regatta Jan fell while dancing at one of the parties and shattered her shoulder. She has been undergoing medical treatment here in Antigua and trying, unsuccessfully, to get earlier flights home to get it looked at by her doctor in California. This was really a disaster for Jan and Howard and basically ruined Sailing Week for them. We are very sympathetic but there was nothing we could do, but being there for her as much as we could, and going through it with her and Howard, brought us closer together.

And Sue, from the yacht Piano, who took over line handling ashore for us, as well as making our lunches every day, fell boarding her dingy and sprained, or broke, her wrist, so she too became one of the walking wounded.

Yes, by all means. Our crew crew was superb. The whole week they remained positive and performed brilliantly. Whatever I, as captain, asked for, they delivered. And we had fun every day, even the days when we broke down. And there was some great sailing with blue waters, sunny skies, and pleasant, if light, winds (dang!). Though I didn’t get enough of it, I had some real duels with other boats on some occasions, and that was great.

The camaraderie of our group, including Jan and Howard and Sue, was terrific. So our 2013 Antigua Sailing Week crew have joined the Wings’ family and will remain always in our hearts.

1 Comments:

The older a boat owner gets, the more he finds himself poised on a dilemma involving the size of his boat. He wants to have a small enough boat that he is physically enabled to go sailing spontaneously, on the spur of the moment, without the crew hassle. At the same time there are few experiences of human connectedness that compare to being part of a team on a well-crewed boat. Regrettably, that seems to require races. Nothing wrong with races as long as they are frequent. Right?

About Me

Two people: Fred & Judy , drawn to each other and yet somehow drawn also to the sea, and both intrigued by the idea of living aboard.
I saw her, blond and asymmetrical, beautiful, boarding another’s boat and I followed her and wooed her, or she wooed me. That was 1985 and we fell in love and we thought that to buy a boat and make a life together on the water was only natural.
So we did.
Fate.
The boat was WINGS.
For the next ten years we lived on Wings in Seattle, had jobs in the city, sailed every chance we got, and 40-50 times a year, went racing. It was great.
Then we left Seattle and began our cruising life. We voyaged across the world, across the seven seas, to faraway places, and made them our own.
Wings was our home, and is still, and we lived wherever the sea met the land and people welcomed us, as they did everywhere.
For thirty years we’ve lived this life, and more to come, we hope.
Join us now, and sail the seas.
Fred Roswold & Judy Jensen, SV Wings, Caribbean